


Moments and Minutiae

by RealtaCuardach



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, We go as far as season 4, and that's it, because I wrote these all before season 5 happened and broke my heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-12-21 14:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealtaCuardach/pseuds/RealtaCuardach
Summary: A collection of Merlin one-shots, ranging from humor to romance to hurt/comfort.#8 - For Want of a Chainmail: "It was one of the unofficial rules in the knight's code of honor – if one of your brothers fell, it was your responsibility to bring the sad news to his family and friends. Leon had had to bear such sad tidings far too often over his several years, but that never made it any easier.Standing in front of his king and the council, however, and having to tell them that Merlin had not been found and was likely dead was probably the hardest thing he would ever have to do."





	1. Spilled Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Gwen knew a secret about Merlin - and one day, it just came out in front of Arthur. Spoilers up until 4x13.

"How could you, Gwen?" Merlin asked, panting, as his hair fell down onto his sweat-slicked forehead and into his eyes. "How could you tell him? You promised!"

Gwen looked up to where her best friend was standing after slamming open the door, rushing inside the room and closing it behind him. His chest was heaving with exertion, and there was a look of disbelief and betrayal in his eyes that made her wince. She got up from the table and walked toward him.

"I am so sorry, Merlin," she said as she came closer, "But I couldn't keep it a secret from him. He's my husband." She cringed at the incredulous look on her friend's face; she hadn't meant to tell, it had just slipped out without her wishes.

"Couldn't…" Merlin's mouth fell open, and he looked remarkably like a goldfish. "Even if telling him would cost me my LIFE?"

Gwen shook her head. "He would never do that, Merlin. He wouldn't kill you!"

"Wouldn't he?" Merlin's eyes only grew in desperation. "You know what he's like – he's not going to just let this go."

"Merlin," Gwen said soothingly, grabbing both of his arms and trying to calm him down. "You're his best friend, even though he doesn't say it enough -"

"Or ever." Merlin added, wryly, even as his eyes darted from side to side nervously.

She fought to keep from smiling at the tone, and failed. "Yes, well."

The entire corridor seemed to shake with an almighty yell. "MERLIN, GET BACK HERE!"

Merlin blanched. "He's going to find me!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gwen soothed, "How would he know you were in-"

The door flung open and Merlin nearly toppled over backwards, almost taking Gwen with him. Arthur stared down his manservant and scowled. "There you are." He growled.

Merlin attempted to hide behind Gwen, an action doomed to failure since he was much taller than his friend and Arthur had already seen him. Stepping forward, Gwen tried to calm down her nearly steaming husband. "Arthur, it's not that bad."

"Isn't it?"

In a moment of sheer stupidity, Merlin had assumed that Arthur was distracted enough by Gwen for him to make his getaway. He hadn't accounted for the keen focus tempered from years of hunting and battling, and Arthur tore after him, only just missing the slimmer man because he'd stumbled over one of Gwen's shoes. That she was wearing on her feet.

"Get back here, you traitor!" Arthur yelled as he bolted out of the room.

Gwen sprinted after him. "Arthur, stop!" She yelled in a manner entirely unbefitting to a queen. "It's not what you think!"

"It's exactly what I think!" Arthur's reply echoed through the hall.

"I kissed HIM!" Gwen yelled as she too took up the chase. "And it was six years ago! We didn't even _talk_ to each other back then!"

Apparently she yelled louder than she had thought, because as she sprinted after the two men, Gwaine's highly amused voice could also be heard. "She kissed _you_? Good on you, mate!"

"Not helping, Gwaine!" Merlin yelled. He glanced back to see that his friend, now bearing an almost feral grin, was finally beginning to gain on him.

The two guards stationed outside the royal bedchamber looked at each other for a moment, and then shrugged. They were beginning to get used to it.


	2. Blood and Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gwen peered desperately around for the two men she loved best in the world, the only two who had not come back after the aftermath of battle."

Pieces of the courtyard wall were scattered about the castle, hazy in a mist of soot and dirt and blood, and Gwen peered desperately around for the two men she loved best in the world, the only two who had not come back after the aftermath of battle.

She saw the two figures, one prone on the ground, the other hunched over and shuddering beside him. Ignoring the blood and wreckage staining the hem of her dress, she sprinted over to them, the knights close behind.

The sight broke her heart. "Merlin!"

The figure on the ground looked blearily at her. "Hey," he said shakily.

Arthur looked up then, his eyes wet and desperate. Gwen began to cry.

"Hey," Merlin said, smiling comfortingly, attempting to wave away her fears with the splintered bloody remains of his arm. "It's okay, don't you see that's Arthur's all right?"

Gwen fell to her knees, heedless of the blood seeping in a pool around Merlin that soaked into her gown. "But you – oh Merlin…" she tried to reach down to grab his hand, just to do something, but couldn't find anything resembling a hand in the bleeding tangle of tendon and bone. Instead she grabbed his shoulder. "Merlin, please…" she whispered, "don't leave us."

"Gwen," he smiled, the blood bubbling from his mouth dampening the attempt considerably. "It's all right – the threat's gone and Arthur's okay. My work is do-"

"Don't you dare, you idiot," Arthur barked, "don't you dare leave us. Heal yourself!"

Merlin looked regretful. "Arthur, I can't-"

"This is no time to be modest, Merlin!" Arthur nearly yelled. "What good is your magic if you don't use it?"

The warlock attempted to shrug, but only began coughing, and more blood bubbled forth. "Was always…rubbish…at healing spells."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur said, his voice a mere whisper. "You've healed all of us before!"

"Well, that's you all, isn't it?" Merlin coughed. "Never much of a point in learning to heal myself, was there?"

"Come on, mate," Gwaine choked from behind Gwen, "do it. Please."

"Sorry." Merlin looked sad. "I can't. You all will be fine without me."

Gwen broke down sobbing and Arthur could no longer maintain his wet glare. "Don't die, Merlin. That's an order."

Merlin grinned. "I never was good at taking orders."

And with that he closed his eyes and he was gone.


	3. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to watch lovers be happy at times when the one you love is beyond your reach. After the long battle of Camelot, and witnessing the reconciliation of Gwen and Arthur, Merlin needs time for himself. Set after 4x13.

As he looked down at Arthur and Gwen holding each other close, an entire gamut of emotions rushed painfully through him. Relief at seeing his friends safe and well, sadness at the mix of grief intermingled with joy on their faces, a feeling of smug satisfaction that those two had _finally_ stopped being idiots about their feelings for one another. And, much to his frustration, jealousy.

Not jealous of one or the other, but jealous of what they had together. Jealous that, through all the problems and difficulties, they were able to touch and physically comfort the one they loved. Merlin's eyes took on a melancholy cast as he looked over his friends, and he forced himself to turn away so that they couldn't see the tears glinting in his eyes. As he walked up the stairs in the palace, into the secluded privacy of his room off of Gaius' chambers, he allowed himself to finally focus on what he'd been shoving back during the whole Save-Arthur's-Skin-Behind-the-Scenes-Again. _Freya._

_I should consider myself lucky,_ he reprimanded himself, _I mean, I got to see her again. _Despite Freya's promise to repay him for what he had done, Merlin had never expected to see the beautiful girl again. He never doubted her intent, but rather her ability to do so. But the shock and panic in seeing the glass smash had so quickly given in to relief and unadulterated joy at seeing her again that it had made it difficult to breathe.

But just seeing her wasn't enough. Just looking at her open, lovely face and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke his name made him want to take her into his arms and never let her go. His fingers had fair ached with the need to hold her hand and brush the tear from her face – but he was too worried that disturbing the surface of the pooled water would be enough to banish her forever and instead contented himself with just looking at her and listening to the voice he thought he'd never hear again. But of course, he couldn't lose himself to that enjoyment, he had work to do, to help Arthur, and Freya was able to help him do it.

And in the end, once again, he had saved the day. Once again, he kept his secret safe, saved Arthur, and got none of the credit and none of the glory. In the earlier, prat-Arthur days that would have stung, but now he was more content to help his friend and help both of their destinies along than to get his rightful credit, most of the time. But this victory had stung all the same; he did not begrudge Arthur his praise or Gwen, but he wished that he could have held his love too.

In the safety of his bedroom, he finally let a few tears slid past his eyes. Relief but mostly grief and bitterness seeped from his eyes, dripping from his fingers onto the mussed bedspread. _She is fine. She is at peace. So why does it hurt so much?_

He could hear the door to the main chamber open and close, and heard Gaius bustling in to start concoctions for those who had been wounded in battle. "Merlin?"

Merlin hastily wiped away his tears and went down to join him.

It was when he was riding to where he would lay the blade (which had somehow been labeled as Excalibur in his head) to rest when it occurred to him. Maybe he could not touch her, maybe she could not come to see him when she liked, but there was one way where he could be with her again.

_Technically,_ he countered to himself as he edged his horse away from the stone where he'd placed the sword, _there's two ways, but the other's a bit too macabre for my taste. 'Sides, Freya'd kill me._ The horse began to gallop as they reached the main path, far from where he had placed the sword, but he made no effort to slow her down. Frankly, he was much more eager to reach their destination than she was.

So eager, in fact, that he completely missed the slight exhalation of triumph from far behind him on the main path, or the fluid motion of the rider's horse as it followed him down the path.

The night was still. So still that the perfect orb of the moon reflected clearly in the dark waters of the lake, and the whole place seemed to glow with an enchanted light. Distractedly, Merlin dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to a nearby tree, giving a perfunctory tug of the knot before he cautiously stepped forward towards the waters of the lake. After all the rush of the ride, he could only slowly walk now, his breath catching in his throat and the heartbeat pounding in his ears as came closer, ever closer to his goal. Kneeling almost reverently at the edge of the shore, he leaned down and brushed his fingers across the top of the water.

The night was warm and still, and if Merlin closed his eyes he could just imagine that the soft, smooth warmth of the water was Freya's skin. Not her hands, which had been blistered and chapped from her struggles in the cage and from her transformations, but the smooth skin of her face and of her lips as they pressed against his.

An owl hooted balefully from across the way and Merlin snapped his eyes open to see the dark waters of the lake and his heart sank. He hadn't believed, truly, that the water was her skin, but the illusion was almost overwhelming. This was the only way he could _feel_ Freya, the only connection she had to this earth besides the memories crowding around inside his head.

Without thinking much about it, he worked off his boots and stepped out into the lake. The water was cooler than its surface had appeared, and he shivered as the goosebumps rose on his skin. He ignored them and continued on undeterred until the water lapped around his waist. Then he let his arms fell down to the surface of the lake, feeling the mingled warmth and coolness seep into him and trying to reach out for…something.

Minutes passed. It was only after his arms had fully relaxed into the water and his breathing had subconsciously eased into the pattern of the wind blowing through the reeds that he realized that he couldn't feel what he was hoping for. If Freya was here, and he had faith that she was, then she was clearly slumbering, waiting for the time she felt needed again. _I need you now,_ Merlin muttered to himself, but knew better than to try and disturb her. After what she'd been through in this life, she deserved whatever peaceful rest was granted her, and he loved her far too much to disturb that. So Merlin simply stood in the water, thinking and being close.

Watchful eyes peered from beneath one of the thick trunks bordering the lake to see the young man standing still and silent in the waist-deep water, with the halo of the moon surrounding him. They crinkled in confusion and thought before disappearing completely.

In the mixed exhilaration of victory and the bitter pang of Morgana's betrayal, Merlin's absence had been surprisingly easy to miss. It was only after everyone had cleared up their armor and horses, with Gwen following close behind (to help, she said, but she seemed more occupied in watching the knights and Arthur as though she believed they'd disappear if she looked away), that they noticed the lack of his snarky, yet wise-when-necessary chatter and reassuring presence in the background.

Gwen had begun to worry, but Arthur hastened to remind her that Gaius had needed help earlier with some potions and had probably pulled Merlin in to help. The others had been surprised but not overly concerned; it was common for Gaius to haul Merlin in for help and probably catch up with him after the battle. However, once Arthur had gone up to rest in his chambers, he had seen the bedclothes folded back and dinner placed on the table – but no sign of his manservant. Gwen had already run up to check on how Gaius and Merlin were faring in the physician's chambers, and she looked as confused as he did as he walked quickly (not running, of course he wasn't running) inside.

Gaius, in an odd contrast to the younger people, did not seem at all concerned about his apprentice's whereabouts. "He just needs some time alone. It's been a hard time for all of us, and surprisingly enough even he likes to take time to _think_!"

It was an old joke, and the laughter was more out of a kind of relief than of actual humor, but Arthur noticed a serious glint in the old physician's eye. He had an idea that Merlin was doing something more than just thinking, and from the pleading look in Gwen's eye, she was thinking the same thing.

"He was rather…quiet when we got back." Gwen said thoughtfully as the two made their way down to the stables. "He seemed happy, but then his face grew all serious." She shook her head. "I thought he was just tired."

"I'm sure he's all right," Arthur reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder and gripping it. "He's probably just trying to skip out on all the polishing he's going to have to do now that the battle's over." Gwen shot him a teasing glare, and Arthur held out his hands. "Sorry."

Gwen reached up on her tiptoes and kissed the side of his face. "All right, but if he needs to talk…"

Arthur smiled down at her. "We'll make sure that he does."

He made sure that she found a comfortable room for the night, not wanting her to leave the security of the castle for her home that late in the evening, and as soon as the door closed behind her, let a contemplative scowl cross his face. _Is Merlin all right?_

Once everything had been said and done, the manservant had been incredibly quiet and thoughtful, no prattle, no clumsiness. He just stayed on his horse, silent and in another world, automatically steering the horse where it needed to go and not speaking to anyone. Arthur had put it down to fatigue but now he worried that it might be something worse than that. As much as he complained about Merlin's lack of propriety, snarky comments and general lack of fear for Arthur's title, at his core he appreciated it. More often that he cared to admit, he had to keep a smile from crossing his face at Merlin's irreverence and his genuine desire for friendship. And, to much his surprise, he found that Merlin dropped more and more gambits of wisdom when he needed it most. Not that he would admit that yet, anyway.

So what was the matter with him? Certainly he was tired, but there seemed to be more than exhaustion in his gait and eyes earlier that day.

It was that strange look in Merlin's eyes that steeled Arthur's resolve. With stealth born of years training to be a knight, he slipped into the stables and secured his horse. He wasn't sure where Merlin was going – Gaius had not been particularly helpful when he'd asked after seeing Gwen to bed – but he was certain he would be using the main path.

It was not much more than an hour's ride from the city when Arthur heard the telltale clopping of hooves from just ahead. Stilling his horse's ride to a walk, he listened intently and heard the noise getting farther from there, not closer to the city. It would not be difficult to catch up.

If it wasn't for the distinct red neckerchief peeping out under the shadowy moonlight, or the familiar horse carrying the rider, Arthur might not have recognized Merlin for all his stiff posture and stone-like expression. Arthur had first had the impulse to call out to his friend, but stifled it, choosing instead to follow silently and see what was bothering him.

The lake was beautiful and still, and the idea of taking Gwen out there for a picnic once all the insanity had died down popped into his mind, but he became distracted as he saw Merlin dismount and head towards the water. He crept down to a tree and peered around the bark, watching as Merlin dragged his fingers across the surface of the lake, his eyes closed as though he were trying to sense something or resolve himself. Arthur's heart nearly stopped as he saw Merlin kick off his boots and beginning to wade into the water. From what he remembered of the lakes in these parts, they could be treacherously deep and nearly impossible to maneuver out of when it was dark and difficult to see. _Is he trying to –_ Arthur wondered and then stopped. Merlin would never do that – no matter how Arthur liked to joke at him, he knew Merlin wasn't a coward. _But that look in his eyes…_

Something held him back as he watched his friend walk deeper into the water until it reached his waist. Merlin then reached out his arms, and Arthur nearly rushed in to haul him out before he did something stupid. But Merlin seemed simply content to float his arms on the top of the water, his eyes still closed and his posture still and silent.

And then suddenly, his posture crumbled. His shoulders drooped and then began to shake. Arthur frowned, puzzled. He had never seen fatigue hit like that, but then heard the heaving breaths and sobs that were accompanying it. Merlin was crying.

The sounds of the sobs hurt as though they were being ripped out of his own throat. Arthur had _never_ seen Merlin like this before, so sad, so upset. It clashed incredibly with his usual happy-go-lucky attitude and his occasional calm, serious bouts of advice. _What happened?_

Merlin spoke, although his word sounded more like an exhalation of breath than a fully formed word as it floated across the calm surface of the lake. "Freya…" He shook his head. "I wish that I…I wish that I could have…"

And then he surrendered to the tears again, and Arthur's heart ached at the visible pain in his friend's shaking shoulders. He almost walked out, but the moment seemed too sensitive, and if he walked out he might break it. So instead he waited patiently for his friend to finish his tears and make his peace with whatever he was seeking.

He missed the growing peace on Merlin's face as the water, seemingly of its own volition in the windless night, lapped against his open palms. He didn't the whisper as Merlin opened his eyes and looked to the center of the apparently empty lake.

"Thank you, Freya."

However, he did see Merlin pass by and mount his horse before kicking it in the sides towards Camelot. He followed his friend home through the night and even shadowed him through the castle until Merlin arrived at Gaius' chambers, only returning to bed once he was sure his friend was all right.

It is entirely possible that the barbs that Arthur traded with Merlin the next morning were quite a bit less harsh than usual. It is also possible that he threw a roll instead of an apple at Merlin when he insulted him, and that he might have done better aiming if he'd been turned around with his eyes shut. But that certainly would have not been influenced by what he'd seen the night before. Truly.

Merlin smiled a secret grin to himself, remembering the glimpse of a certain prince he'd seen out of his periphery as he was about halfway home to Camelot the night before. He knew better.


	4. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The knights were only trying to help Merlin out with the looks he was getting from the ladies at the tavern. They had no idea that he would react the way he did, or why. Continuation of sorts from "Touch." Set after series 4.

"Oh, come on, mate. Have a go, then!"

Gwaine's exclamation was punctuated by a very hearty slap on the shoulder that nearly sent Merlin plunging headfirst into his tankard of mead. Years of being around the boisterous knight only just prevented Merlin from crashing into the bar, and he straightened up, shooting his friend a half-hearted glare while massaging his aching shoulder. "Go at what?" He asked confusedly.

"What d'you think?" Gwaine barked with amusement, turning his friend around on the bar stool and pointed, with a finger quivering slightly with overindulgence, in the corner. "The girls, mate. Look at them – you could have any of 'em you wanted with just a crook of the finger.'

Merlin gave a very Arthur-like snort and rolled his eyes before returning to his tankard. However, neither Gwaine nor the rest of the knights of the Round Table who had joined them noticed the slight blush rising in his cheeks and began roaring with laughter.

It had been calm for the most part in Camelot for the past few weeks, and to the knights that was as much a victory as coming out of a great battle as the victors. They felt it a genuine cause for celebration and had gone out to one of the local taverns, dragging Merlin out along with them. Even Leon, who was the very model of knightly propriety in and out of chainmail allowed himself to relax enough to let the mead soften his mind and mood. His bark of laughter was almost the loudest.

"Go on," Elyan grinned shamelessly, pushing on Merlin's abused shoulder, "don't keep the ladies waiting."

The knights, for all their teasing and slight drunkenness, were being totally serious. Ever since the group had gone into the tavern, Merlin had been attracting all sorts of admiring looks from the barmaid and several other young women, both those serving and being served. Although Merlin liked to complain in his snarky way about how the handsome prince – now king – got all the girls, he never seemed to notice how several servant girls in the castle and women out in the village would cast admiring glances after his tall form and relaxedly handsome face as he walked by. That admiration made it strange that Merlin never seemed to have a love life. Arthur had Gwen, Gwaine had several admirers with his forwardly flirtatious behavior (and just as many slaps from unflattered females), and even the other knights had been seen escorting or in light conversation with those of the fairer sex. Merlin had no one.

But maybe he was just oblivious.

In that case, it was the job of his brother knights (for although he was not _technically_ a knight, they all considered him their brother) to help the oblivious man out.

Merlin very sagely crossed his eyes at Gwaine before returning his attention, although his previously cheerful expression suddenly seemed plastered on and his eyes had become very somber. Gwaine would later blame the alcohol for missing both of those as he further pushed the matter.

"How can you miss them?" Gwaine grinned, "That whole lot has been makin' sheep's eyes at you since we've been here." He pushed the younger man forward. "Go on, mate, how can you be so cruel to them?" The other knights chuckled good-naturedly and joined in urging Merlin forward with the waving of their tankards.

"I'm not interested." Merlin's words and posture were stiff, but the others didn't notice.

"Ah, come on…"

"Leave it, Gwaine."

"Just one, then," Gwaine continued obliviously, "come on, mate, you need a girl-"

"No!" Merlin thundered, slamming his tankard down onto the bar, the mead sloshing out of the tankard and all over the slightly sticky wood. If his friends hadn't been so shocked, they might have noticed the gold flash in his eyes, or that the mead had jettisoned from the tankard with more force than could be considered normal. As it was, all they noticed was how Merlin began breathing heavily, his grip so tight on the handle that his knuckles were white.

Then suddenly, it was over. Merlin released the handle as though it had burned him and backed away from the bar. He muttered an abrupt, "I'm sorry," although it was hard to see if he was apologizing to the knights or to the barmaid for the mess, and quickly dropped some coins on the bar before rushing out into the night.

The knights stared after him. Some of the girls who had been admiring the manservant began swooning about how _tortured_ the handsome young man was. The knights got over their shock and sprinted to the door, nearly throwing their payment onto the bar in their haste.

They also nearly knocked over the king as they ran out the door.

"Have you seen Merlin?" Gwaine and Arthur asked at the same time, and the way they both drew back would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"He just left." Gwaine said.

Arthur gave a frustrated snort. "The one time I can actually catch him at the tavern, he's gone." He was about to start a familiar rant about the apparent drinking problem of his servant, but the looks on his knight's faces stopped him. "What's the matter?"

"Merlin," Leon said calmly, "We think something's wrong."

Arthur looked around with his hunter's eyes and noticed the footsteps on the path leaving Camelot. "Let's go," he said in his most commanding voice, "He can't have gotten far."

As it turned out, Arthur was wrong. They had been walking for more than an hour before they had managed to get close enough to Merlin to hear his footfalls although they didn't catch a glimpse until they were a bit further away from the city. Merlin slipped from the path and passed quickly between the trees towards what appeared to be a large lake. Arthur stiffened with recognition, but the knights continued forward, although they hung back just behind the trees, watching as Merlin neared the edge of the lake.

Merlin sat down at the shore, his arms hugging around his chest for warmth although it was not cold. Unlike his other visits to the lake, he did not make an effort to touch the water, instead staring blankly over the surface of the lake for something none of the others could see.

The silence seemed to stretch out agonizingly, but then the silence was punctured by a sound that was much more painful to the eavesdroppers' ears. Sobbing.

Merlin's eyes appeared to be dry, but that did not diminish the intensity of the dry sobs that made his entire body shake. He hid his face in his hands in an attempt at comfort and at muffling the sound, but it appeared to not be accomplishing either goal. The knights stared at each other. They had never seen Merlin like that before.

They knew he had a compassionate heart, and would bear the grief and pain of others as though it were his own, but they didn't understand this. What had happened to make him like this? As they searched mentally for an answer, they all came to the same unsettling conclusion – they knew next to nothing about Merlin.

They knew he was brave and loyal, and that he would willingly lay down his life for Arthur and for them all. He cared about others almost to the point of insanity, and they all trusted that, as long as Arthur had him by his side, everything would turn out all right. But Merlin did not simply exist as a servant to Arthur or an ally to his friends – he had his own story, his own history and grievances. And it was upsetting that even those closest to him had no clue about it, beyond the love for his mother and the loss of his father.

Before the knights could come up with a plan, Gwaine stumbled forward, emboldened by spirits and a desire to make things right with the first true friend he'd ever had. Merlin jerked upward and spun around without getting up, his hands scrambling up to brush any remaining tears from his face. "Gwaine! I-"

Gwaine flopped down beside him, slinging an arm around his friend's shoulders. "What's the matter, mate? Why'd you run off like that?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin said weakly, looking down at the ground.

"Don't worry about that!" Gwaine barked, although he became more serious. "I just want to know what's wrong. Princess being a prat?"

Arthur made a snort of irritation but stifled it enough so that only the knights heard it, all trying desperately not to laugh at the look on their king's face. They all smiled genuinely as they heard Merlin laugh. "Nah."

"Then what is it?"

Merlin looked back out over the water. "It's…complicated.'

"Is it 'cause we were trying to find you a girl?" Merlin stiffened slightly and so Gwaine continued. "Why'd you mind? D'you already have a lady?" Merlin stiffened much more noticeably. "That's it, then!" Gwaine cried, "And shame on you for not introducing me earlier. When do I meet her?"

Merlin had wound their arms more tightly and his legs drew up against his chest. "You don't."

"Ah, c'mon," Gwaine slapped him on the back. "Why hide her from us?"

"She's dead."

The absolute deadness in his voice made everyone freeze, and Gwaine pulled his hand back in shock. "She…died."

"Yes." There was still a deadness in Merlin's eyes as he brought up his hand to furtively rub the bridge of his nose. "A few years ago."

The knights still in the trees looked dumbfounded at each other, and then at Arthur, the only one of them who would've known Merlin well enough back then. He looked as surprised as they did, and only managed a dazed shaking of the head. _I've no idea_, he mouthed at them.

"Was she very sick?" Gwaine asked quietly, trying to find a way not to blunder the conversation. "Did you meet her through Gaius?"

Merlin laughed to himself in his head. _Sort of, but it would be too hard to explain._ "She wasn't sick," he said honestly. Gwaine looked at him expectantly so he continued. "She was killed."

Gwaine's hand crept instinctively to the hilt of the sword at his waist. "Killed?" Merlin's eyes were squeezed shut and he nodded. Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "Who did it?" Gwaine growled.

It was proof of how much alcohol Merlin had drunk before running from the tavern that the answer slipped out without hesitation. "Arthur."

Gwaine's hand tightened around the sword handle. All three remaining knights spun around to stare at Arthur. Arthur's mouth had fallen open, and he stared dumbly ahead. Merlin's eyes opened at the sound of Gwaine's sword being slid from its scabbard and put out his hand to stop it, accidentally cutting his finger on the blade. He let out a gasp and immediately stuck the bleeding finger in his mouth. "Don't blame him, Gwaine," he replied, inspecting the finger for damage, "He didn't know."

Gwaine looked back, shooting daggers at his king, who continued to look shocked. "How could he not have known?"

Merlin sighed. "She was…cursed. Arthur did what he had to do, I guess." He let out a somewhat bitter laugh. "Doesn't make it any easier, though."

"Does he know now?"

Merlin let out another laugh, this one slightly less bitter. "That'd be a fine conversation, wouldn't it? 'Hey, Arthur. Remember that cursed girl you stabbed the other day? That was my girlfriend.'"

Realization finally dawned on Arthur's face.

"I buried her here," Merlin said distractedly. "I've never loved another, and probably never shall." He rubbed his eyes furtively. "As pathetic as I guess that sounds."

All the wind was knocked out of Merlin as Gwaine crushed him into a hug. "You could never be pathetic. I'm sorry I was a prat."

"It's all right," Merlin smiled genuinely. Gwaine ruffled his hair and cuffed him on the unaffected shoulder.

Then the rest of the knights chose to rush in. "Ah, there you are, Merlin!" Leon exclaimed. "We were wondering where you'd run off to. Hello, Gwaine."

There was an impish glint in Merlin's eye that hinted he did not entirely buy Leon's act, but he said nothing about it. "Hello. I'm sorry about earlier."

"No harm done," Leon replied, "I'm sorry we upset you earlier. You know," he sat down beside Merlin, "you can talk to us. Whenever you want." He grabbed Merlin's shoulder and gripped it reassuringly.

"Thanks." Merlin smiled. "I know." He leaned forward and whispered. "And you can tell Arthur to come out. I saw him sneak behind a tree when you all walked out."

"You've been caught, sire!" Elyan laughed, and Arthur drew back slightly, still fully occupied in trying to get the _ireallykilledmybestfriend'sloveandyethehasn'ttriedtokillmeireallyamaprat_ look off of his face. He managed to subdue it into a look of guilt and surprise before stepping out into the clearing.

The king walked forward, and the knights parted slightly to let him through, although Gwaine kept his arm slung around Merlin's shoulders. Arthur looked down at his friend's flushed face and bloodshot eyes and swallowed hard, searching desperately for the right words.

"Merlin, I…" _I'm sorry to have done that to you? I wouldn't have done that if I'd known? If I could take it back…is this why you run around talking about love like a girl? How could you forgive me for what I've done?_

He sat down beside his friend and forced him to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry."

In the end, there was really nothing more to be said.

Merlin gave a slight nod and managed a small smile before looking back over the lake.

"What was her name?" Percival asked quietly.

Merlin gave a small puff of laughter, and turned to the others, who, despite their empathetic sorrow, felt joy rise up within them at the light reentering his eyes. His smile was more genuine, although sad, and there was a warm look in his eyes as he looked at them.

"Freya."


	5. Triangles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5: Triangles: "Love triangles hurt – burned like fire, froze like ice, and seemed to leave a sort of empty hollowness that resounded throughout a person's being. And it didn't only affect those in the love triangle, but also those on the sidelines picking up the pieces. Although sometimes he didn't feel like he was on the sidelines but rather underneath the triangle, trying to support all three of his friends at once while attempting to keep everything from falling apart." 
> 
> In the aftermath of Lancelot and Gwen's seeming betrayal, Merlin tries to keep things together while trying not to fall apart himself. Tag to Lancelot du Lac, 4x09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings Readers! Here is the next oneshot for this collection!
> 
> Warning: Little Merlin at the beginning (although not much of a warning – a young Merlin makes me want to squeal at his cuteness); Mood whiplash after flashback to angst/hurt/comfort. Spoilers for 4x09
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

Merlin giggled merrily, his legs swinging slightly through the air, as he watched the show before him.

Hearing the sound, Hunith came out of the front door of their home and looked down at her small son, who was perched on the thick tree stump just outside the door that mother and son called his 'thinking tree.' "What is it, Merlin?"

Merlin pointed forward, still giggling, at the two young men in the center of the square who were throwing strange insults and buckets of water at each other while a young woman around their age was trying desperately to intervene. Hunith put one hand on her hip and clucked her tongue disapprovingly at the scene. "No shame." She looked down at Merlin, who still looked incredibly amused, the smile nearly splitting his face. "Merlin, stop," she chastised gently, "It's not funny. Those three need to figure out their problems in private, not in the square." Her face softened. "They're just causing themselves more problems in the long run."

"What problems, Mother?" Merlin asked. "They look like they're having fun!"

Hunith shook her head. "No, Merlin. Both of these young men love that woman." She continued, muttering under her breath. "It's been a complete love triangle since her family moved here."

"But love's a good thing, isn't it, Mother?" Merlin piped up, "I love you, so it must be good!"

Hunith smiled down warmly at her innocent son. "Love can be very good," she agreed, "but it can bring great hurt as well." A poignant look that Merlin would come to associate with mentions of his father in years to come entered his mother's eyes as she turned to enter their home.

Kicking his legs enthusiastically, Merlin continued watching the spectacle in front of him and grinned. No matter what his mother said, love triangles were fun.

It would have been an understatement to say that Merlin would come to disagree with that thought in the future. Love triangles hurt – burned like fire, froze like ice, and seemed to leave a sort of empty hollowness that resounded throughout a person's being. And it didn't only affect those in the love triangle, but also those on the sidelines picking up the pieces. Although sometimes he didn't feel like he was on the sidelines but rather underneath the triangle, trying to support all three of his friends at once while attempting to keep everything from falling apart.

Sometimes he thought it might have been easier if he didn't care equally for all of them. Gwen was his first friend in Camelot. Lancelot was the first and only person besides Gaius who knew of his magic and still completely accepted him. And Arthur, despite his prattishness, was his best friend and the one he owed his loyalty to. He would've accepted the role of trying to keep them all whole without question, but he hadn't been given the chance. It had been taken away from him when he and Arthur had gone to save Gwen.

Arthur had cracked and told him he was in love with Gwen (and delivering a threat at the same time. Honestly, did he think Merlin had some fervent desire to get Gwen banished? Did he really need to threaten him?). He'd seen Lancelot's feelings for Gwen and also Lancelot's reaction when he saw his prince had the same feelings. He'd had to lose Lancelot to his nobility, although he couldn't keep from being a little upset that Lancelot wouldn't tell Gwen himself. Merlin had had to give the news to Gwen, see her eyes well with confusion and tears, and not be able to say anything but what Lancelot had said. He'd had to walk alongside both of his friends' horses, endure the grief and longing on both of their faces as they came back to Camelot, wanting to say something to break the tension but not knowing the words.

With time and Merlin's prodding, Arthur seemed to get over his own fears of what courtship to Gwen would mean, and romantic feelings between Arthur and Gwen continued to grow. Even with all the obstacles in their way, involving an aged Merlin saving Gwen from the execution pyre, the love of legend continued to grow and strengthen.

And then Lancelot came back.

In a way, nothing and everything had changed. Lancelot still loved Gwen but wouldn't act on his feelings, Arthur both valued and was wary of Lancelot, and Gwen loved them both, although now in vastly different ways. And Merlin was still there – coaxing admissions out of Lancelot, listening sympathetically as Gwen confessed her guilt for causing both men pain, and reassuring Arthur that Gwen did love him. He bore the weight willingly, because he was their friend.

Lancelot's death made the weight even heavier. Arthur felt the guilt of another man dying in his place and the dismayed relief that Gwen valued his own safety above everything. Gwen felt relief that her love had returned and sorrow that a man had died to fulfill to her request. Merlin bore these, as both confided in him, as well as the frustration that he hadn't been able to save Lancelot from sacrificing himself in his place and the certain knowledge of Lancelot's unrequited love that he would take to his grave. It was not unlike the weight of his own lost love that had settled around him when Freya had died, but felt strange, foreign, and assumed, and so all the more heavy to bear.

But, Merlin thought to himself, as he pushed the flower-laden boat out into the middle of the lake, he would have willingly carried that weight for the rest of his life if it would have prevented this from happening. If only he had seen from the beginning that this shadow of Lancelot was just that – only a shade of his good friend. If only he had acted sooner. But he never would have expected this.

There was nothing he could have done – and that somehow was more painful than anything else. Gaius was right – as much as Arthur had wanted to kill Lancelot when he'd seen the two kissing, his real grievance was with Gwen and her betrayal. And while Merlin was suspicious of how quickly Gwen's desires were swayed, he had nothing to explain that change – not like the proof he had of the shade-Lancelot. So he could do nothing but watch.

He had tried to help Gwen pack, although he would infinitely have preferred locking her and her belongings firmly into the house to give him time to talk to Arthur. But she had made him leave, as though him standing near her just exposed him to some sort of infectious disease, a disease of ignominy and shame. Merlin had tried to protest, but then she turned to him head on, her voice pleading and her now dry eyes containing a sorrow far too poignant for any tears. He could not deny her. However, she could not make him leave entirely, and so he sat patiently and sadly outside of her home, waiting for her to appear. When she did, she looked in his direction for a moment and almost smiled but then quickly turned away as though she didn't deserve the comfort of his compassionate face after what she'd done. Gwen never allowed herself to look back as she laboriously pulled her cart through town, but Merlin stood resolutely watching her. He stayed in that same spot, watching her until she was so far away that he couldn't see her any longer and hoping that she would be safe. He also hoped that she would find the package he'd left her sooner rather than later.

Before Gwen had made him leave, he'd managed to tie one of his cleaner neckerchiefs to the handle of her sewing bag. The neckerchief had only contained a small slip of paper with a message for her.

_ Don't lose heart, and remember Ealdor. _

Merlin hoped that she would take the hint and take refuge in Ealdor, where he knew she would be safe and his mother would look after her. But he doubted she would got there at first, suspecting she'd force a sort of exile on herself beyond Arthur's decree – an exile from any friendly face or kind word – because she was far from forgetting herself for what had happened.

It had been with a heavy heart, and her fear and shame slung onto his shoulders, that Merlin had finally turned and walked back up to the castle, resolutely ignoring the curious onlookers poking out of their homes as they watched him go by. He had to talk to Arthur.

It was just as painful as seeing Gwen closing off – seeing Arthur with his walls rising up around him, walls that had taken years of Merlin's friendship and teasing and Gwen's love to finally dismantle. Merlin's heart ached to see the pain Arthur was going through, but also ached at watching all the three had been through together fall into ignominy and nothingness. All the same, he couldn't give up on them – he would have to keep trying.

"See to it that he receives a proper burial."

As he watched the tiny boat bob closer to the center of the lake, Merlin thought bitterly that a proper burial was not something he could give – a burial, yes, a burial full of respect and a sincerely grieving mourner he could provide, but it wasn't the same as a proper burial. Not for Lancelot, not for the man who had given so much for the kingdom and those he cared about, the man who was denied peace even in the supposed sanctity of death. It was a small source of comfort that Merlin was able to remove Morgana's hold on Lancelot before he set the boat off into the lake. However, in a way it was almost worse – Lancelot had been aware of what was happening but couldn't do anything to stop it. Merlin could not deny that seeing Lancelot's grateful, free face brought a soothing balm to his aching soul, and he felt that, perhaps, that was the closest thing to a proper send-off his friend could receive. Freedom.

It wasn't fair. Merlin almost petulantly flopped onto the shore beside Lake of Avalon and watched as the flames licked over the sides of the boat. It wasn't fair on any of them.

Arthur and Gwen loved each other – still loved each other – and would have been happy together. Lancelot had already had to die once, but at least he had died as a knight, straight-backed, proud, and with honor. Who would remember his goodness, his greatness, now that his story would be tainted with an adultery and a shame that were not truly his?

"I will." Merlin promised himself and the spirit of the man who was finally free, his words quiet and barely heard over the gentle crackle of flames.

But he deserved more than that, much more. So did the other sides of the triangle, but it seemed to be late. Merlin picked up a stone and stared at it pensively for a few moments before finally releasing his own frustration by throwing it across the lake with a scream of anger.

The force of his arm combined with an unintentional spurt of magic made the stone fly across the lake striking a tree with such force it came out the other side, leaving a smoking hole in its wake. Merlin fell on his back, breathing heavily, getting his emotions under control. After enough minutes had passed to sufficiently calm him, he sat up and tried to think out what to do next.

It was unfair, it was cruel, there was nothing he could do to change that. But to simply give into his anger, or to do nothing but let the whole thing continue to fall apart, was something he could not do, would not allow himself to do. It would only disgrace his friend's memory and abandon his friends' dreams.

With a near-silent goodbye to his lost love, the young man stood, his posture straight-backed although he seemed to bear an enormous weight on his shoulders. He gave a respectful nod to the embers of his friend, which were seeping into the lake and then turned to go.

It was a heavy weight to bear, but he chose it willingly. He was going to make everything all right.

He had to.


	6. Last Respects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Last Respects: "Five days after Merlin revealed his magic, there was a funeral."

Five days after Merlin revealed his magic, there was a funeral.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as the funeral began. The king was near the front, his face displaying a mix of grief and guilt that he was attempting to cover with an impassive façade. The queen followed closely behind, her eyes welling slightly with tears and she passed her sleeve across her eyes several times as they walked. A crowd of peasants and guards led by the knights followed a respectful distance behind, most holding unlit candles.

Arthur looked ahead at the figure slowly but smoothly navigating through the brush, and called out, "Merlin, are we almost there?"

"Nearly," Merlin called back without slackening his pace, using his staff to break apart underlying brush and steady his steps. It was a strange feeling that filled the warlock as he led the crowd to the burial site, a feeling that was so enveloping that he was only just aware of the crowd behind him. It was the feeling of regret and sorrow that normally permeated a funeral, but it intermingled with a poignant joy and an overwhelming relief in finally seeing justice done.

Merlin finally came to a stop in front of the overhanging branches of a tree. He grabbed the ends of the branches and pulled them to the side, revealing the burial site. Arthur nearly stopped in his tracks with a sharp intake of breath at the familiar place, and he could hear some of his closest knights doing the same as they recognized the area, but the rest of the group issued past them through the gap Merlin had created.

Arthur, holding Gwen's hand tightly, followed his subjects through the gap, the knights flanking them both, although in brotherly solidarity rather than for their protection. Merlin stepped behind them and let the branches fall back into their place before joining them.

Arthur stepped to the shores of the lake before turning and facing the people. He took a deep breath and looked at Gwen, the knights, and Merlin. The queen blinked back tears and smiled, the knights stood tall and looked at him with fidelity, and Merlin gave him a small, encouraging nod.

"We are here," Arthur began, "to honor the passing of Sir Lancelot of Camelot."

Merlin blinked back a tear and smiled. _ It looks like third time's the charm, my friend. _

It was certainly a strange thing to have a third funeral for a man, but then most thought it strange that a powerful warlock had not only been among them for years but was also the king's clumsy manservant, so it seemed Camelot was on a roll with strange occurrences.

And it was the noble thing to do, given all that had come out after Merlin had discovered the cursed bracelet the shade-Lancelot had given to Gwen. It had been on the fourth day after his magic had been revealed, and he'd grown rather bored with being stuck in the dungeons for three days. So bored that he started rearranging what little was provided in the cells just for something to do. It had been a relatively mindless task and he hadn't been putting a whole lot of attention to what he was doing until his hand grazed the bracelet. Then he had reeled back at the unexpected jolt of magic that had a bitter and painfully familiar feel to it. Merlin had pulled back the wilting hay to see the oddly shiny metal of the bracelet. He had picked it up, and with just one touch, discovered what magic it was and who had cast it. Morgana, he mentally hissed.

Merlin had just been debating the merits of simply blasting the cell door open and telling Arthur about what had happened or just staying put until the prat saw fit to let him out when Arthur showed up, with a look as close to being apologetic as he ever would have without someone actually dying.

It wasn't as though Arthur had particularly wanted to throw his manservant and closest friend in the dungeon – but sorcery was technically still against the law when the magic had been revealed, and he had been so shocked that he hadn't been sure what to do. So he fell back on tradition.

And right after Merlin had been escorted away – and he really had been escorted there, none of the guards seemed to want to roughhandle him out of respect or fear or both – Arthur had gone to Gaius.

He had received an earful (as had the knights of the round table and Gwen who had unceremoniously burst into Gaius' chambers upon hearing Merlin was in the dungeons). He heard stories that made him want to strangle Merlin and a lot more that made him want to hug and thank his friend. But he'd known that Gaius was not the best person to hear Merlin's story from – that would be Merlin himself.

When he went down to the dungeons in the early morning of the second day, he was down there for a long time. There was a lot of yelling, apologizing, and arguing from both sides – and at the end of the conversation Arthur rushed upstairs, determined to abolish the laws banning sorcery.

Unfortunately, he was in such haste that he forgot to mention that detail to Merlin.

By the time he'd realized that, at about noon on the third day, he'd grinned a bit mischievously to himself in the middle of the council meeting. _ Serves him right for lying to me, _ he smirked to himself, _ he'll be out soon enough. _

One thing Arthur had not taken into account, however, was that his wife and knights, not being a part of the council, were aware of just as much of the proceedings as Merlin. And they had come to a very different conclusion than their magical friend, who seemed oddly relaxed for a man in the cells.

Merlin, unlike his friends who were coming down to the cells with increasingly ridiculous methods of escaping, knew after two days had passed that Arthur was just being forgetful or a prat or both. Arthur was a good man, when he didn't let anger rule his head. And since he hadn't snapped and ordered Merlin to be executed or banished the first day he'd found out, Merlin knew that he wasn't being ruled by anger. And so he was safe. That didn't mean he had to tell the others that, and he got a certain malicious glee in hearing them attack Arthur. _ Payback, you prat _.

Arthur had originally planned for some regal yet apologetic words when he let Merlin out early the fourth day, but the effect he'd been trying for was more or less ruined by Merlin brandishing a strange bracelet at him. "This is what did it!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I'd say that the cells have rotted your brain," he remarked lightly as he grabbed the keys form the guard and unlocking the cell door, "but that would require you having a brain."

Gwen, who had followed Arthur down to the cells to see her friend released, blanched and recoiled when she saw the bracelet, the guilt of painful memories flitting across her face.

Both men noticed, and Merlin quickly walked up to her and held her wrist reassuringly. "It wasn't your fault, Gwen," he said, holding the bracelet where she could see it. "It was all this – it was Morgana's doing." He looked her in the eye. "It was never your fault."

Upon hearing the story, Arthur was besieged with anger for his treacherous half-sister and guilt for how he treated Gwen and Lancelot. Gwen was able to forgive him, for which he thanked her with a kiss that made Merlin roll his eyes, but there was little he could do to beg Lancelot's forgiveness. Merlin had promised, with grieving eyes, that Lancelot had seemed at peace when Merlin had freed him from Morgana's spell, but that wasn't enough. Arthur felt he owed more to the man he had allowed to be degraded throughout the kingdom, when in reality he had been one of the most noble men he'd ever met.

"Sir Lancelot," Arthur continued, "was a man of honor – an example to us all. He had done great good for the kingdom. He helped defeat Morgana without thought of reward. He sacrificed his life to save mine and hundreds more from the Dorocha. He deserved every rite of dignity bestowed upon his burial place. But Morgana –" Here Arthur struggled to keep from gritting his teeth, "took that peace from him and defamed his honor by using him to disrupt the kingdom. When he was finally freed from his spell, an undeserved ignominy covered his honor, and only a single friend was present to mourn him."

The knights and Gwen turned to look at Merlin, whose face seemed to be convulsed with past memories.

"I cannot take this grief from him," Arthur said, "it is too late for that. But we can take the time to honor his sacrifice and to remember his great virtue and the good man he truly was." Arthur knelt down on the ground and took the unlit candle from his cloak pocket before setting it adrift on the smooth water. In a quiet stream, the rest of the mourners placed the candles upon the water and watched the drift to the center of the lake. Once the last mourner had backed away from the shore to watch his candle join the others, Arthur beckoned Merlin forward.

The crowd watched with some fear but mostly interest as Merlin strode forward. He paused a moment before raising one arm and sweeping it across the lake as his eyes glowed gold. As one, the candles all became lit with blue and silver flames, casting entire lake with a beautiful, ethereal glow. Several children oohed in appreciation before being shushed by their parents.

Arthur unsheathed his sword and held it high. "To Lancelot." The entire crowd repeated as one.

"To Lancelot!"

~.~

Merlin continued to watch the flickering flames long after the crowd had returned to their homes. Even the knights had gone, escorting a tired Gwen, at Arthur's request, back to their bedchamber. He heard a rustle of a cloak beside him but didn't turn from his gaze over the lake to look at Arthur as he sat beside him.

"Why here?" Arthur asked. "I know this place is important to you." Even before he'd known of the magic, he'd stumbled upon the truth about Freya.

"Maybe that's why I chose it,' Merlin smiled somberly, "There wasn't a potter's field that would have him, and I knew he would be safe here." His smile broadened and became a little lovesick. "Besides, Freya could look after him here."

Arthur took a deep breath. "For what it's worth, Merlin, I'm sorry. About Freya, about you having to bury Lancelot alone." The young king folded his hands and rested his chin pensively on them. "Do you think he knows about this?"

Merlin nodded. "I'm sure of it."

"He knows. And he is very grateful to both of you."

Both men looked down to the surface of the lake, where the face and figure of a young beautiful woman lay shimmering in the moonlight. "Freya!" Merlin exclaimed.

Arthur made an effort to back up a little to give the two some semblance of privacy, but he was far too curious about the girl to leave.

"Hello, Merlin," she smiled gently, "It's so good to see you."

"And I you," Merlin whispered almost reverently. "What has brought you here?"

She laughed lightly. "I am always here – you know that. I just came to tell you and Arthur that Lancelot knows of what you have done for him. He's at peace. He is happy." She shook her head. "And of course, blames himself partly for all that happened." She shot a playful glance at Merlin. "Are all men like that, or just the ones that you know?"

Arthur started, and Freya smiled at him. "I mean you too. I bear you no ill will for what happened – you were only defending your home from a monster."

"Freya…" Merlin said affectionately but disapprovingly. "You are not a monster. You are…you." He leaned down and brushed the watery line of her cheek. "You are the woman I love."

Freya smiled. "I know. I love you, too." Her outline became more wavy and she frowned. "I cannot stay much longer. I only wished you both to know what Lancelot had said. And," she looked with a sad smile at Merlin, "to see you again."

"I wish you didn't have to go."

"I'll be back, I promise you, Merlin." She laughed as she faded away. "And I always keep my promises."

Her form disappeared entirely into the light lapping of waves of the lake. And if the lake was disturbed by a few drops of salt water as Merlin leaned over the surface, Arthur didn't say anything.

Merlin sat back, and Arthur put a hand on his shoulder for a few moments before looking out over the lake himself. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

The two friends sat there together into the night and the early hours of the morning, paying tribute to those they had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed - got some much needed bromance into the mix this time. Hooray!
> 
> To be honest, it always bothered me that no one ever found that bracelet and discovered Gwen was as guiltless as Lancelot in Morgana's scheme. Do they not clean those cells ever? 
> 
> I'm also curious...given the description of this chapter and the first two paragraphs, was the fact that the funeral was for Lancelot a surprise?
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy, and I like to know what you think!


	7. Allegiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Allegiance: "And that's when they swore allegiance to Arthur, they also looked at his manservant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around the scene where Arthur brought the others to the Round Table before taking back Camelot in the season 3 finale. Because I like getting into characters' heads whenever feasibly possible. And also ramping up the Merlin appreciation...because he sure doesn't get it enough in the series! Ha!

"Are there any around this table that would join me?"

They had snuck into the abandoned castle knowing that their chances for success were less than slim, and that they were far outnumbered, but they would go down fighting. It was still clear that this was the truth as they sat down around the round table, but somehow the fact became less important. The fear, the doubt became nothing compared to the promise of what they could accomplish. Together.

But still, it would take a brave man to rise first and swear fealty to a plan that all sane men would see as hopeless and doomed to failure. So it was fitting that the truest knight Camelot would ever know was the first to stand and speak.

He turned to face his future king, after sparing a glance at the woman he loved but would let go and at the young man who, aptly enough, was sitting at the prince's right hand.

"I believe in the world that you will build." He looked Arthur straight in the eye, but even as Arthur nodded with acknowledgement and gratitude, Lancelot turned to look at Merlin and make a silent promise to him as well.  _ I believe in the world that you will both build, Merlin. _

Lancelot tried always to be a man of honor – it was the code that he cherished and aspired to live to at all times. When Merlin had repaid him for saving his life by helping him to achieve his dream of becoming a knight, he had understood it as an act of honor. He quickly learned that it was not merely an act of honor for Merlin, but an act of friendship. It was a friendship Lancelot had never experienced before, in all its selflessness and sacrifice, and one that he was only too eager to reciprocate.

He would follow his friend Merlin wherever the other man needed him to be. He swore his utmost allegiance to his future king, but also promised that same allegiance to the humble man beside him.

Elyan stood. "You were willing to lay down your life for me, Arthur. It is now my turn to repay you." He glanced at Merlin who was smiling at him.  _ To repay both of you _ .

From his sister, Elyan had heard all about the man she loved and the man who was her best friend. He could never thank either of them enough for risking their lives to rescue him. It was brave for Arthur to venture out practically unaided without the blessing of his father, and he had nothing but respect for him. It was also brave of Merlin to come along, to allow himself to be dragged into a dangerous situation that he must have been fully aware would be dangerous. But he came anyway, and he was not fueled by love for Gwen but instead of loyalty to his friends – Gwen and Arthur.

There was more to Merlin than anyone openly gave him credit for, although Elyan suspected that others must also have noticed. He had this ability to see through the subterfuge of others – he had been the first to recognize Elyan in the gloom of his hut when he attacked Arthur, even when both Elyan and Arthur were too confused to recognize each other. He was intelligent and could think clearly on his feet, so clearly in fact that Elyan and Gwaine had not even hesitated to follow his instructions back in the castle. Like Arthur, he was a good man.

He swore his allegiance to Arthur, but he also made the same promise to Merlin – to defend Arthur as Merlin had defended him.

Leon stood. "There is no one that I would rather die for."  _ And I am grateful to you, Merlin, for helping make him the man I would willingly die for _ .

Leon would always remain true to his king, but he would be lying if he said he had not been worried about what kind of king Arthur would be when the boy was younger. Although his heart and love for his people was always genuine, he had let years of courtly living cover those virtues with arrogance.

Leon had watched in concern as Arthur had been using his previous manservant for target practice all those years ago, only to marvel in amazement at seeing a young man around Arthur's age step out to stop it. The boy had clearly not known Arthur was royalty, but even that knowledge was not enough to stop him giving the prince a tongue-lashing he undoubtedly deserved.

Merlin had succeeded, with all his backtalk, irreverence, and constant, steadfast support, in slowly removing the prince's shell to reveal the true king he was destined to be. Leon would willingly die for Arthur now, not merely out of duty but out of genuine respect for the young future king. And he knew that Merlin, clumsy, ever-present, ever-faithful Merlin would do the same.

His complete allegiance was for the prince, but he was also making the promise to Merlin.

"I think we've no chance," Gwaine drawled out from his chair, trying to keep from smirking as all eyes swiveled onto him. But then he stood up, and his face was all seriousness. "But I wouldn't miss it for the world."  _ I'm here to help a friend _ , he thought silently as he looked at the prince, and then at his first true friend,  _ both of you. You'd be lost without me! _

Merlin was unlike any person Gwaine had met before. He was the first person Gwaine truly trusted as a friend, and the first person to give that same trust to him. Merlin was completely insane – putting himself in danger time and time again to protect those he cared about with no thought of reward for himself. But sane people were boring.

Who else would have bailed him out of a hard spot in a tavern? Or who would run with him after a hard spot in  _ another _ tavern? Who would have repeatedly put his neck on the line fighting for Gwaine's cause? Certainly not a sane person. Thank God Merlin wasn't sane.

In time, Gwaine had started to like the princess – guy had a way of growing on you. But he trusted Merlin before he trusted Arthur, and if Merlin was willing to support the prince, Gwaine had no choice but to back him up. That's what friends were for, after all.

He would swear allegiance to Arthur, but his greatest allegiance would always be to Merlin.

Percival was the next to stand. He was a man of few words, but he knew how to make them count. "Your enemies are my enemies."  _ And your friends are my friends. _

Percival had been only too eager to help Lancelot when the other man had said that he was going to help the prince of Camelot defeat Cenred's army, the army that had seen to the deaths of all his living family. On their way to help, he heard a bit about Prince Arthur, but a great deal more about Merlin. Merlin was the manservant to the prince, but moreover he was Lancelot's friend and the one who had sent the letter asking for help. "One of the greatest men I've ever met," Lancelot said when he was asked to describe Merlin. It was an interesting description, especially since Percival had been expecting some sort of physical description, but one that Percival did not take lightly. Lancelot would only give that sort of praise to someone whom he respected and trusted absolutely, and Percival became even more intrigued.

He had not expected Merlin to look or act the way he did, but at the same time it made perfect sense. In the way that the young man moved and spoke and acted, it was clear that he had total faith in his friends and the intelligence, although somewhat masked by his cheerfulness, to help them whatever way he could.

Percival did not know the future king personally, but to have such men as Lancelot and Merlin supporting him, he was clearly a good man and one Percival would follow to the last breath.

Gaius stood up with more confidence than he'd shown earlier in the day. He spoke of his age, but not deprecatingly like he'd done over the past few days. "If you need an old man."  _ I will support you to my dying breath in whatever way I can, Arthur. Merlin, I will support you until the end of time. _

He was so proud of both young men. They had come so far. Arthur was showing traces of becoming a truly great king, and he was proud of whatever hand he had in that. Merlin, also, was showing more and more of the wise and powerful Emrys he was destined to be, and he had loved every moment that he had helped guide the boy along his destiny. Now together, the two would be able to take their first steps into fulfilling their destiny.

Gaius would do whatever small thing he could to help the boys along their path. He had promised silent allegiance to Arthur since his birth, but ever since the gangly warlock had stumbled into his life, Gaius' allegiance to him would always be first.

Gwen smiled. "You know the answer."  _ Both of you know it. _

Arthur was her true love, the one person that she valued more than anyone else. Merlin was the greatest friend she'd ever had. She would follow either of them down whatever path they would choose, but she had a feeling that it would often be the same path.

She had had feelings for Merlin when they had first met, but the thoughts had soon enough faded, leaving in their place a strong and steadfast friendship. She had fallen in love with Arthur, but in his own way Merlin had helped that happen. He'd supported them both, sacrificed for them both, cared about them both. If it hadn't been for Merlin to open her eyes and to open up Arthur's heart, the two of them would have never found each other. They would have lived as king who was arrogant and maidservant who secretly despised him as the bully he was.

Gwen could never thank Merlin enough for his friendship and his faith to her, and the friendship and support he gave to Arthur. She would gladly go through any difficulties to help them both.

She loved Arthur, and her heart and allegiance would always be his. But an equally strong promise was made to her greatest friend – to support him and those he supported the way he had supported her.

In the silence, all eyes turned to the one man who was still sitting down, the person who they were all unconsciously expected to be the first to jump into the promises. But then, Merlin had always done his job in the background and maybe felt that throwing himself into the forefront would ruin the moment. But the delay was pushing things a bit.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked with a barely straight face, not even looking at his friend.

Merlin looked up seriously before saying with a deadpan face. "No, I don't fancy it." They could all see the joke in his eye.

"You don't have a choice, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "Ok."

The others around the table watched as both men looked at each other before nodding solemnly, in complete agreement with each other.

Merlin hadn't said anything, had not pledged his loyalty with words. He didn't have to.

He had proven his fealty in that single nod. He had proven his fealty when he wrote the letter to Lancelot. He had proven it when following Arthur into danger without hesitation, even when the prince himself forbade it. He had proven it by sticking around the prince long enough to help form him into a true king. He had proven it by sticking by his friends through good and bad times. He had proven it by being a man that could be trusted absolutely by other great men. He had proven it by not running from his destiny, even when his destiny would often be a taskmaster and a prat, and would have meant his death to stay around and fulfill. He had proven it by risking everything to make those he cared about happy.

He didn't say anything about that. He didn't have to.

They all knew it. And that is why when they swore allegiance to Arthur, they also looked at his manservant.


	8. For Want of a Chainmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was one of the unofficial rules in the knight's code of honor – if one of your brothers fell, it was your responsibility to bring the sad news to his family and friends. Leon had had to bear such sad tidings far too often over his several years, but that never made it any easier.
> 
> Standing in front of his king and the council, however, and having to tell them that Merlin had not been found and was likely dead was probably the hardest thing he would ever have to do."
> 
> Set during A Servant of Two Masters

It was one of the unofficial rules in the knight's code of honor – if one of your brothers fell, it was your responsibility to bring the sad news to his family and friends. Leon had had to bear such sad tidings far too often over his several years, but that never made it any easier.

Standing in front of his king and the council, however, and having to tell them that Merlin had not been found and was likely dead was probably the hardest thing he would ever have to do. More so because he had to appear strong in front of the council when all he really wanted to do was tear something in two and properly grieve with the other knights who knew Merlin best.

He could understand Arthur's need to believe that there was still hope for Merlin – that he had survived. But he knew, without a doubt, that Merlin could not still be alive; the proof was in the pouch around his tunic. He also knew that Arthur could not be allowed to see it, but that option was taken away from him.

Leon could not deny the flash of anger that bolted through him as Agravaine interrupted his gentle but persistent message that Merlin was nowhere to be found by ripping the piece of evidence from his bag. The king's uncle or not, Leon could have willingly strangled the man for striding forward and so callously placing the bloodstained torn piece of coat in front of Arthur.

Arthur stared at the piece for a few seconds, all sorts of emotions swirling through his eyes, even through his mask of regal impassiveness, and Leon had to swallow hard. He could only imagine what Arthur was thinking at the moment. He himself could only shudder at the blood that soaked the worn fragment, and wondered how any of them could have let Merlin go into possible danger without any chainmail. Again.

As Leon was walking back down the corridor after being dismissed, his mind wandered to Merlin. Merlin was no warrior. He made it clear that he preferred peace to war and bloodshed, but also that he was willing to follow his king and friends into whatever battle they got themselves into.  _ And we sent a man like that into a skirmish with bloodthirsty assassins with absolutely no means to protect himself. _

It made Leon sick to his stomach. It was part of his duty as a knight to protect those who were unable to protect themselves. It was part of his duty as a friend to keep his friends from as much harm as he possibly could. He had failed utterly on both accounts. Merlin never had even so much as a dagger to defend himself, and he still came along anyway.

The knights never thought much of it. Merlin always seemed to keep himself safe enough, and had even bailed Arthur out of a spot or two. It had never been obvious that he was going into battle after skirmish with no means to protect himself by running or hiding.

Arthur liked to tease and yell at Merlin for ducking and hiding 'like a coward' as he had put it often, but Leon knew, by instinct and by the way Arthur had looked on the ride home, that he would have much rather preferred that Merlin hide than be susceptible to such a wounding.

In their moments of graveyard humor (which sometimes came in handy when dealing with so much death), they used to joke that Merlin's loyalty would be the death of him. And now it really had been.

If only Merlin hadn't been so focused on alerting Arthur to danger that he had missed his own impending doom. If only he had turned around faster, or run when shouting his warning. Instead, he stood still long enough to see that Arthur had heeded his call before turning to stare at the rapidly approaching rider who was swinging his mace with deadly intent. There was no time for him to duck and hide, only to take the full brunt of the assassin's blow without any chainmail to dampen the impact.

Leon had happened to look over and see Merlin collapsed on the ground, his legs jutting out at strange angles, but had been too occupied with two bandits to assist him. He saw Arthur help the younger man up and then rush him out of the fray and to safety, and focused even more on keeping the bandits back and away from the wounded man. But some had slipped past him.

Leon grimaced as he pulled off the jangling, sweaty chainmail back in the armory, the jangling oddly magnified and grating in his ears, reminding him of the protection he'd always had that was denied Merlin. The bandits who had managed to get past him had been able to get Merlin. He had failed his friend. Merlin was gone, and the guilt and grief wore heavier on him than any chainmail in history.

**~.~**

The chambers felt all too big and empty that night. Arthur unconsciously kept pricking up his ears at every sound, his hopes tricking him into believing that Merlin was about to come barreling in, full of humor and chatter and wit like he always did. But then his better sense, his warrior's sense, took hold again and reminded that it was not Merlin. It would never be Merlin again.

He turned to look through the open window that faced out onto the courtyard, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the piece of worn cloth that he had not been able to bring himself to let go of since the council meeting.  _ Merlin, you idiot, _ he thought to himself,  _ why did you let this happen? Why didn't you run and hide? I tell you to be braver, but getting yourself wounded is not what I had in mind.  _

His mind tried to supply the ready retort that Merlin surely would have had had he been able to hear Arthur's words, but it fell far short and only made him slip deeper into guilt and grief. He held up the bloodied cloth so that he could better see it in the waning sunlight. If he hadn't seen the bloody, gaping wound for himself that had stained the jacket, he might have fooled himself into thinking that the stain was something entirely different. Maybe it had come from one of the dinners where Merlin had somehow managed to spill sauce or wine on himself while attempting to serve the king. But it hadn't.

Arthur noted the worn threads of the jacket fragment and scowled. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought that his was the same jacket that Merlin had worn on the first day they had met. It might have been – Merlin hadn't really changed his wardrobe much in the past four years. The same few shirts and neckerchiefs, and the one jacket. Did Merlin not make enough money to get more clothing?

Then Arthur realized that he was the one who was supposed to be responsible for how much money Merlin was getting, and he nearly smacked himself in the face. He hoped Merlin was getting paid enough – often, he forgot that Merlin had a paying job as his servant. Merlin seemed to forget that, too, or at least he never mentioned the payment or complained about the amount. Arthur would have to look into it and make sure he was paid enough.

And then he remembered that that didn't matter anymore, and his heart sank.

_ What kind of king am I? _ He rebuked himself.  _ If I can't even make sure my most trusted servant, my closest friend _ (he could admit it sometimes in the sanctuary of his own head),  _ has enough to feed and clothe himself, how could I drag him into battles without so much as a scrap of chainmail? _

It had been far too easy for the mace to rip into Merlin's skin. It had been far too easy for Arthur to push aside the bloodied shirt material to see the wound. There was no chainmail to block either of them. Merlin had never made a fuss about not being protected enough – although he fussed plenty about other things – so it was easy to forget that he was not untouchable, that he was not invulnerable to violence.

They had more than enough chainmail that they could have given Merlin some to protect himself. He had actually worn some, in fact, when he'd served as decoy to lure Caerleon and his men into a trap. But as soon as the subterfuge was through, Merlin had switched into his familiar clothes and discarded the chainmail. But they had it, and Arthur could have forced him to wear it, should have forced him to wear it. Then he would have been safe.

He wouldn't have been felled by a mace. He wouldn't have had to be hauled away from the fighting in the clearing. He wouldn't have been trapped with all those bandits and separated from Arthur as the rocks fell between them.

Arthur closed his eyes and gripped the stiff, coppery-smelling cloth tighter. He should have forced Merlin to wear the chainmail. He should have listened when Merlin warned them that nothing good had happened in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. He should have been able to save his friend.

Gwen came in to try and comfort Arthur, to give him hope that Merlin would return. He always had before, no matter what strange things to see to happen or when he would mysteriously appear only to return in time to help set things right. But then she saw the bloodied cloth and had to stop, struggling to keep back the tears were forming. She could not ignore the proof in front of her. Arthur couldn't either, no matter how he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the scratchy surface between his fingers. It was there for them both to see. Merlin was gone.

For the want of a chainmail, a friend was lost.

**~.~**

When Merlin was found safe and well (albeit incredibly muddy), it seemed to good to be true. But he was back and he was safe, and that was what mattered. In future years, just exactly how he'd managed it would be the source of some interesting discussions, but for now it was enough that he was back.

Leon and Arthur were determined not to make the same mistake again.

A week after Merlin's training with George, the knights and Arthur were preparing to leave on a quest, and they had a surprise for Merlin when he arrived after fetching their provisions.

To Merlin's credit, he managed to hold himself in for about half a minute before bursting into fits of laughter. "You want me to wear that?"

Arthur actually looked somewhat affronted. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's chainmail!" Merlin snickered. "I'm not about to wear that, thanks."

Merlin turned to fasten the provisions to his horse's saddle. Arthur followed, hauling the chainmail into his arms. "Merlin, wear it. That's an order."

With a twinkle in his eyes that was both understanding and teasing, Merlin shook his head. "Nah, I've already been there, done that. You realize how hard it is to run in all that mess?" He snorted in amusement. "It's ridiculous. Besides, you'd be taking away my chief defense. All I'm good for in battle is running."

His laughter was infectious and the others joined in as they got on their horses. The chainmail was left behind, and was never mentioned again.

However, he would never manage to talk his way out of taking Leon's dagger.


End file.
